


VI. Old Habits

by BubblyWashingMachine



Series: Every Little Hurt Counts [febuwhump 2021] [6]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Banter, Discussion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FebuWhump2021, Febuwhump, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Infertility, Late Night Conversations, No Romance, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Season/Series 02, Sharing a Bed, They Love Each Other OK, but no sparrows, emotional but not sad, febuwhumpday6, i love them so much ok, is this even whump?, mention of being infertile, probably not, prompt is insomnia but i didn't really stick to that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyWashingMachine/pseuds/BubblyWashingMachine
Summary: “Can’t sleep?”Tentatively, Vanya places the small ceramic mug down on the coffee table. Five immediately curls his hands around it, hunched over on Vanya’s ratty couch in the dark, and she can’t help but think that he just looks… so small. And tired. “That seems like an oversimplification.”“Yeah, me neither,” she says, smiling sadly, and looks away. Steam rises from her drink and warms her face. Outside, the wind howls....After the events of season two (with no sparrows), Five and Vanya finally have a chance to talk.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Sissy Cooper & Vanya Hargreeves
Series: Every Little Hurt Counts [febuwhump 2021] [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137428
Comments: 16
Kudos: 99





	VI. Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> my beta said this one is her favourite so far :D  
> she's said that about all of them though
> 
> This one could totally fit in the same timeline as yesterday's, with five and vanya living together post-season-two. No surprise that this one felt like a breeze to write - five and vanya, man. they just work for me so well, writing their conversations is just -- mwah. also how good is that summary excerpt??? so proud. love this one.
> 
> OH but content warning for, uh, vanya being sterile? like she can't have kids? it's just something i thought would be interesting.
> 
> enjoy!!!

Despite all her best efforts, Vanya is awake, and after a few hours spent tossing restlessly in a room that at once feels too hot and too cold, she gets out of bed and drowsily shuffles her way to the kitchen, her eyes half closed.

“You should be asleep.”

“ _Shit_!” Vanya gasps, clutching her chest and jumping back as a violent shock of adrenaline splashes through her veins. Behind her, another picture frame shatters, glass scattering across her floor. That’s the third one this week.

Well, if she wasn’t fully awake before, she definitely is now.

She tries to regain her composure, leaning back against the wall and doing her breathing techniques. She wills her pulse to slow, and as her mind clears, she feels a rush of embarrassment. Even though it’s been more than a couple months, she’s forgotten again that Five is here. That he – lives here, kinda.

“Sorry,” Five says mildly, as she flicks on the lamp. He’s sitting on the couch like a parent waiting for a rebellious child to come home – she is reminded of the first day he returned, and showed up bleeding in her apartment.

They stare at each other for a second while she feels almost overwhelmed by nostalgia at seeing his thirteen-year-old face.

Then she goes to the kitchen, and does the first thing she can think of, which is making hot chocolate. It requires the use of her hands, has simple steps that she can remember, and in the end she has two sugary drinks on the counter – one stuffed high with marshmallows.

“Can’t sleep?”

Tentatively, Vanya places the small ceramic mug down on the coffee table. Five immediately curls his hands around it, hunched over on Vanya’s ratty couch in the dark, and she can’t help but think that he just looks… so small. And tired. “That seems like an oversimplification.”

“Yeah, me neither,” she says, smiling sadly, letting out a breath, and looking away. Steam rises from her drink and warms her face. Outside, the wind howls.

She made hot chocolate – she doesn’t even drink hot chocolate, she only has it in her cupboard because one day she was at the store and she saw it on the shelf and thought _‘normal people drink cocoa, right?’_ She always has marshmallows in the kitchen, though, and she… doesn’t really ever eat those, either. Old habits die hard.

But it’s like, two in the morning. She’s not making coffee. “I keep having nightmares and it makes me want to just… stay awake. My whole life, I never used to have dreams—”

“I know. I remember,” Five interrupts, but he’s not trying to be rude. He just wants to prove something. She knows him too well for that, even now.

Perhaps that’s the benefit of him not having aged a day, at least on the outside – she can still pretend he’s the same boy she once knew, her best friend.

“But it was because of your medication, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” she confirms, taking a sip of hot chocolate that’s a bit too watery. “That medication fucked up a bunch of things, apparently.” She regrets saying it – the swear feels unfamiliar on her tongue. She isn’t sure why she’s telling him this. _He’s not the same,_ she thinks sternly. _Just because he looks like –_ She stops herself from finishing that thought. _He doesn’t care about this._

“Oh?” He looks intrigued, she thinks, the warm lamplight lighting up half his face. Suddenly, she wants to go to sleep, but she’s not tired. They haven’t really… talked, much, yet. She doesn’t know if he wants to. Now it’s happening, and she doesn’t feel ready.

“Nothing very exciting,” she says, shaking her head slowly, numbly. “But, like, my doctor told me I’m infertile.”

“I see,” Five says.

“Mm. It could be because of the pills, or…”

“Or Dad could have done something to you,” he fills in quietly.

She can’t bring herself to acknowledge it aloud – it seems too horrible to consider. Would Dad have made that choice? To sterilize a four-year-old because of a power she couldn’t control? Yes, she thinks. That’s exactly the kind of man he was. “It’s not like it matters, really.”

“Do you want children?” Five asks.

She sucks in a breath. “I never thought I did.”

“Ah, but then you met Sissy,” Five says intuitively, wisely. “And Harlan.”

“It seems weird, now. I wasn’t exactly myself, but - apparently _amnesia-me_ really thought I could be a _mother_ ,” Vanya says in a strange voice. “Or something close to that. So I guess I don’t know. I think I’ll always be too messed up to start a family. I wouldn’t want to – unload all that on a person, you know? At least not until I figure myself out.” Not again – it went so badly the last time.

“That makes sense,” Five says easily, _how_ she doesn’t know, and seems to consider something. “I went through a phase when I was about your age where I imagined myself with a family. Children. Not in the apocalypse of course, but as a kind of alternate universe, where I was an ordinary man, settling down. I knew it was unrealistic, of course, but it didn’t stop me from indulging in those fantasies once in a while.”

Vanya stares at a stain on her coffee table, and feels like she has to handle this right – Five sharing personal information without prompting tends to be rare. Now, and then. “You had Dolores. Did you ever…” she thinks hard. “…Talk about starting a family together?”

Five smiles at her, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. “We were happy by ourselves.”

She nods, takes another sip of her drink. He does the same.

“Do you dream?” When he doesn’t answer, she tries to fill the silence. An old habit. “Allison says she doesn’t.”

“That’s bullshit. Everyone dreams,” Five scoffs. “Some people just don’t _remember_ them when they wake up. And yes, I do.”

“Do what?”

“Dream,” Five says, and Vanya feels like an idiot.

“Oh, right.” She looks out the window, and the glass rattles from the force of the wind outside. Or maybe it’s her – that’s what scares her, really. Her powers tend to sneak up on her when she least expects it. “Well, I’ve only had a few so far, since we got back, but all of them have been bad, you know? I don’t think I was missing out.”

Five, staring thoughtfully into his mug, hums. “I do know.” She wonders what Five has nightmares about. He has so much material to choose from. _My fault,_ Vanya reminds herself. He drinks some more, and it makes her feel warmer inside; her hot chocolate can’t be that bad then. After a few moments, he says, “Eventually the nightmares will go away. Nothing bad can go on forever.”

“Some things can,” she says without really thinking. “I killed the whole world, yet here I am. Still kicking.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Five responds sharply, looking at her. She feels her face heat up.

“I know, I didn’t—”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Five scowls. “You’re no worse than any of us.” He means himself.

Vanya shakes her head. She’s tired. She didn’t mean to have this conversation tonight. “Which one of us has the higher kill count, do you think?”

She can feel Five staring at her. “It’s not your fault,” he stresses. “There are too many factors. For one, if I had never left,” his voice breaks off, cracking. Not in an emotional way, but in a teenage way – Vanya carefully does not draw attention to it, knowing he hates that. “If I had stayed,” he tries again, “the apocalypse might never have happened.”

She is horrified. “You’re blaming yourself for that, now?”

“ _No_ , I—”

“I did it! It was my fault,” she says, forcefully. “I did that to you, all by myself.”

He knows what she means, but he shakes his head, gesturing. “You’re wrong.”

“Okay, so it was Dad’s fault,” Vanya says over him, closing her eyes for a second. Her throat feels tight. This is really what he thinks? “But don’t blame yourself, Five. Especially not for a mistake you made when you were thirteen. You should be worrying about your retirement plan.” She’s done enough blaming for a lifetime. There was a time when she was so furious at him for leaving, for abandoning her, and yes, when she was blowing up the moon there was a part of her – the worst part of her – that was sickly satisfied to see him in pain. Like she had hurt for all those years.

But she does not believe that anymore, and she buries those resentful parts of her deep down inside, like the part that wants to scream when she’s talking to Allison, playing at having a sister-sister relationship formed from nothing, built from nowhere. Or when she thinks too hard about her childhood and want to throttle Diego, whom she loves dearly, for all the horrible, cruel things he used to say to her when they were children.

Her therapist says it’s okay to have those feelings sometimes. That it’s normal. She doesn’t know what she thinks, really.

But Reginald Hargreeves is the one to blame for it all and he’s already dead, thank God.

Five’s response is measured, clipped. Like he’s reciting a script. “You don’t think I’ve considered every single timeline, every possible outcome? Because I’ve done the math, Vanya. I’m just being--”

“Realistic.”

“Yes!” Five says. “I read your book. My running away, and Ben’s death—”

She refuses to let him finish. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”

He doesn’t smile. “If I was there the first time I would have stopped it.”

“You just – you can’t know that for sure.”

“I would have – stopped you, or talked you down. Or, shit, Vanya, I could have found Dad’s notes and fixed everything when we were twenty and everything would have been fine.” His voice breaks again. “But speculation is pointless. I _wasn’t_ there.” It hits her like a punch to the gut.

Neither of them are looking at each other. “I wasn’t there for you, either,” Vanya whispers eventually, feeling the all-too familiar well of emotion start to rise.

“You were _dead_.”

“No – in Dallas,” she chokes out. “You needed us, you needed _me_ and I was too distracted by, by, Sissy, and Harlan, and you asked me if I would be there and I _wasn’t_ —”

“Vanya,” Five says sharply. “Stop it. Stop crying.”

“Sorry,” she sniffles, but also smiles all wobbly, because she gets a rush of déjà vu. Even that threatens to overwhelm her, and more tears rush down her face. Five looks uncomfortable, or out of his depth – he hates when she cries, even after all this time, it seems.

Vanya’s not used to feeling things this strongly. Her guilt sometimes feels like it will drown her to death.

“I’m just so – I’m just _so sorry_. About _everything_.”

“I’m sorry too,” he says simply.

“I just,” she wipes her hand over her face. Jesus, this is embarrassing. “I should have been a better sister; first I write that stupid book, then I go and blow up the moon, then I yell at you and blame you for saving everybody, and, God, I was so _stupid_ -!”

“Vanya, it isn’t the same,” he protests, putting down the mug on the coffee table with a noise just loud enough to make her flinch. Her windows rattle – the lamp flickers, once. “You were abused—”

“So were you.”

“You quit your meds cold-turkey—”

“Yeah, that was dumb.”

“You had amnesia—”

“You were a _child_ —”

“—and it worked out in the end, barely, but still—”

“The same could be said for the apocalypse.”

“It’s in the past now, anyway, so don’t go beating yourself up about it.” He sounds frustrated, and he leans back onto the couch. “Just don’t.”

“I won’t if you don’t,” she says weakly, looking at him.

In the glow of her old lamp, something in his face seems to soften, and his shoulders relax just slightly. As it always does, it only serves to make her realise how tense and stressed out he must be the rest of the time. “Ven. Are you trying to guilt me?”

Her heart warms at the use of her old childhood nickname, and she sniffles. “Is it working?”

“No. You know I’ve always been immune,” he lies, and they just look at each other for a moment, smiling.

Vanya looks away first, embarrassed, wiping tears off her cheeks. _Ugh, mood swings_. She doesn’t have the emotional maturity of an old man, but then again, Five isn’t exactly the blueprint.

She’s not naïve enough to really believe much has been solved, but something inside her does feel lighter. That’s enough talking about serious things for one day.

“My hot chocolate’s cold,” she realises, frowning. “Would it be an abuse of your powers if I asked you to time travel back to make it warm again?” She muses aloud, knowing that he is smirking at her.

“Probably,” he says.

“Oh, well. It kinda sucked.”

“No, it was fine. You can always make more,” Five says. “Or I can. If you want.”

She glances up at him, sees how he’s fidgeting. “You like it, don’t you?”

His mouth tightens. “No.”

“You _do_!” She laughs. “Wait ‘till I tell the others. Mister ‘coffee, black’, is actually—”

“Don’t you dare.” Five glares. “Diego would never let me hear the end of it.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell them,” Vanya relents, smiling, and he relaxes. “But I’ll have to stock up.”

“You don’t have to,” Five says, and then – he tenses, and yawns wide like a cat. Vanya watches, fascinated, and it makes her yawn too.

“I’ve never seen you yawn,” she says sleepily.

“Yes you have,” Five says.

“Have not. It’s because you’re never tired.”

“False. I’m always tired,” Five says, and stands up. He reaches a hand out, and pulls Vanya to her feet. “I believe it’s time for you to go back to bed.”

“You sound so old,” she mutters. “Like, I’m expecting you to tut disapprovingly and call me _young lady_.”

“That would feel demeaning,” Five says, frowning, and tugs on her elbow until she relents and shuffles to her room. “I don’t know if I should be insulted.”

“Okay, grandpa,” she says, and laughs.

“Good God,” Five grumbles.

They make it to the bedroom and like a weird parent, he tucks her in, pulling the sheet up to her chin. It could feel patronizing, but it doesn’t. “I think I should be the one doing this, not the other way around,” she says. “You’re like – you look like a baby.”

Five scowls. “You _just_ called me a grandpa.”

“You can be both simultaneously.”

“ _You_ are delirious and need to go to sleep,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Goodnight, Vanya.”

She asks, “What if I have a nightmare?” then immediately feels absurd. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Never mind.”

But Five doesn’t treat her like she’s being ridiculous, only taking the concern seriously. “Then you’ll know where to find me. I do live here,” he says, tilting his head.

“You’ll be here?”

“I’ll still be here,” he confirms, looking sad, and then he stops right before switching off her bedside lamp, hesitating. “You know I missed you,” he says.

Humiliatingly, her eyes begin to well up again, and she says, “Yeah. I missed you too.”

“I know,” he says, looking very old, and then he furrows his brow. “Oh, goddammit. Move over.”

“What?” she asks blearily, certain she’s misheard, and he starts shoving her until she rolls over and makes enough room for him to climb under the sheet and lie down next to her.

“I’m sleeping here tonight,” he says unnecessarily, and turns off the light. It very much reminds her of when they were kids.

“Oh, okay,” she says into the darkness. “Goodnight, Five.”

“Goodnight, Vanya.”

Vanya appreciates the sentiment far too much – emotional, emotional – but knows she’s not going to sleep great. Five always rolls around and kicks her shins in his sleep. She doubts he knows that, though. And she’s not gonna tell him.

A beat. The wind outside has died down, and the night is still and quiet.

“Don’t you still have shoes on?” Her legs are going to be black and blue in the morning.

“Good _night_ , Vanya.”

She smiles. “Hey, is it really true you had a _Chevron_ moustache? Luther said—”

“ _Goodnight_.”

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment if you liked it!! I am so so appreciative to all the people who have left wonderful comments on this series, I'm happy you are enjoying it.


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